


Tequila

by notyourown



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, POV John Watson, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:49:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9452975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourown/pseuds/notyourown
Summary: When tequila and years of repressed emotions come together, no one is safe.But, then again, safety was never one of John's concerns, anyway.





	

"Let's play a game." Sherlock said, catching John off guard. They had been sitting in their flat for the past hour, comfortable in their chairs, John editing his blog posts and Sherlock reading some kind of anatomy book he picked up from St. Bart's.

"What?" John asked, looking up from his laptop to see Sherlock had closed the book and was looking at John intently.

"Let's play a game. I'm bored."

"Okay, what kind of a game? Cluedo?"

"No." He paused. "I was thinking something more- revealing." Sherlock finished and John's eyebrows rose curiously.

"Is this supposed to be some kind of an experiment?"

"John, everything's an experiment if you're clever enough." Sherlock smiled. When John said nothing, he added: "It's a drinking game."

John frowned in disbelief. "You want to play a drinking game?"

"Yes, why not, Rosie's at Mrs Hudson's for the night, we have the flat to ourselves. It's Friday night, that's what people do on Friday nights, they drink and have fun." Sherlock simply stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and John couldn't help but feel like he was missing something amidst it all. But Sherlock had a point and it had been a while since they just talked and laughed and hung out casually, so this could probably be a good thing. It had been a long six months with Mary dying, Eurus going full-maniac on them, having to renovate the flat, John moving back in. It was, in one word, eventful. They could definitely use some downtime together, the way people normally hung out, without the threat of immanent death hanging over their heads. John was surprised Sherlock proposed it, it wasn't really his style, but maybe it was Sherlock's way of trying to re-establish the balance in their relationship. John wasn't about to complain.

"Okay, what did you have in mind?"

Sherlock smiled at the approval. "Okay, we know each other fairly well by now, yes?"

John nodded.

"But there are some things, there always are, we just aren't comfortable with sharing about ourselves. Yes?"

John nodded again.

"Well, what if we just asked everything we want to know about each other, and just for tonight, we'd have to be honest. After tonight, we don't need to mention it again."

John smiled at the idea, clearly amused. There were definitely some things he wouldn't mind learning about Sherlock. That man was, even after seven years of close friendship, a walking puzzle to John.

 "Alright, but what does drinking have to do with it?"

"You see, that's what makes it fun, otherwise it would probably just be awkward. So the game is, we each say something we think is true about the other, and if it is, that person has to drink a shot."

"Oh, so it's like 'Never have I ever?" John asked, his mind growing fonder of the idea with each passing second.

"I'm sorry?" Sherlock frowned, not following. Why did John even think he'd know what 'Never have I ever was'? _Stupid._

"Never mind. Let's play." He said and got up to the liqour cabinet. "Tequila?"

"I suppose it would do."

He grabbed the bottle and two shot glasses and positioned a table between him and Sherlock before sitting back in his chair. He poured the tequila into the glasses.

"Okay. I'll go first." Sherlock said, thinking. "Mhm. You are secretly fairly fond of my brother."

John drank his shot and poured himself a new one.

"I knew it." Sherlock laughed. "Mycroft will be very pleased to know."

"No, he will not, because nothing we say tonight can leave this room. Got it?" John said, trying to appear agitated, but holding back a smile of his own. Sherlock nodded. "Right. Sorry."

"Okay. My turn. You are secretly fairly fond of Greg."

"Who?" Sherlock looked at him questioningly.

"Christ, Sherlock, Greg, Greg Lestrade?"

"Ohhhh, Greg. Well, I suppose you could say that." He decided and gulped the tequila down in one shot. He poured himself a new one- John was smiling warmly at him, content with his answer.

"You and Major Sholto had a thing in the army." Sherlock said and John was dumbfounded. He pulled himself together and tried to appear unaffected.

"Define 'a thing'."

"Sex."

John chuckled. How could he possibly have known that? _He was Sherlock Holmes, of course he knew that, he can see right through you, you bloody moron_. He drank. Sherlock's mouth opened in surprise and his eyes widened.

"I wasn't expecting that to be true at all, honestly." was all the comment he made and John felt himself blush at his confession. Or was it the tequila?

"Yeah, well, I'm glad I can still surprise the great Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock laughed. "You had a thing with Irene Adler."

Sherlock stopped laughing. "Define 'a thing'."

"Sex."  He raised his eyebrow in expectation. His fingers were sweating a little, but _it was most definitely from the tequila, what other reason could there be?_ Sherlock leaned back and relaxed in his chair, not taking his eyes off John's. John waited a few seconds before he was sure the man wasn't reaching for his glass.

"Oh, come on, Sherlock, you wanted to play the game. Be honest, then."

"I am being honest." Sherlock simply said and shrugged his shoulders.

"You really didn't-?"

"No, why would we?"

"She was clearly interested." John stated.

"Perhaps. I wasn't, though."

"Why not?"

"Ask the right questions and you might find out." Sherlock teased and winked at him. _He winked. Why would he wink? Why did he always do that?_

"Okay, but it's your turn."

"Yes. So. You're attracted to men, that much is obvious. Mhm. Major Sholto is the only man you've been with."

 John drank. Sherlock nodded. "Interesting."

"You're gay." John blurted out before Sherlock could even finish his thought, clearly catching him off guard. Sherlock hesitated for a while before taking the glass and emptying its content down his throat. He then refilled both of their glasses.

"Oh my god, Sherlock, why didn't you ever say?" John was smiling a little too brightly, but he blamed it on the alcohol.

"You never asked."

"I bloody well did." He objected, but Sherlock shook his head.

"Not directly."

"Oh, come on-" He started before realising Sherlock was right. He never did ask. "I suppose I didn't. Huh."

"Now you know." Sherlock said, distracted. "You didn't only have sex with Sholto because it was convenient or no one else was available, you genuinely wanted to."

John felt his head burn up as he drained the liquid in his glass. "Interesting." Sherlock said again and John felt his whole head burn up _. Tequila. It was the tequila._

"My turn, I guess. Mmhm. You had sex with men."

Sherlock drank and John's eyes widened. "You did?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know, you never seemed interested."

"Well, I was."

John was puzzled. "Who were you interested in last?"

Sherlock looked away. "You're attracted to me." he stated after a pause, ignoring John's question, and John's heart beated loudly in his chest.

He cleared his throat. "Excuse me?" was all he managed to say, well aware he was looking really affected by Sherlock's statement.

"Play the game, John."

He looked at the table, realising his glass was empty. He reached for the bottle and filled it. He stopped, thinking. He enhaled before emptying his glass once again. Both his head and his stomach felt fuzzy. He wasn't sure what the stomach thing was all about, but he blamed it all on tequila anyway. _It had to be the tequila._

"Can we pause and talk for a while?“ John inquired. Treading on dangerous grounds, they were. This was a game for seven years ago, not for now, when they went through so much together, when they depended on each other. This wasn't the time to play games and if dangerous grounds were to be treaded on, he was determined to do it properly. Sherlock nodded at the question. "I don't know where this is going, Sherlock, this little game of yours, but it's been seven years."

"Exactly." Sherlock replied and John's confusion only rose. With it, rose his eyebrows as well. Sherlock caught on to the meaning behind the expression and explained. "It's been seven years, John. High time to address the elephant in the room." John caughed at that, but said nothing. Maybe Sherlock was right, maybe this was their chance. _But, a chance for what? What were they? What was this? Was Sherlock in l- No, that couldn't be it, could it?_

"You're in love with me."

Sherlock's eyes shot to his. He swallowed. "John." He muttered.

"No. You don't get to walk off scar free while I-" He didn't know how to finish the sentence. "Just play the game, Sherlock."

Sherlock stood up, took the bottle and drank until it was empty. „Game over.“ He announced dramatically before falling back into his chair. The skeletons were out, all of them, out for John to see, to mock, to ridicule: that's what John read on the face of the man across from him. But that was never his intention.

"Not over, there is still a glass full." He said, taking the glass in his hand.  "Your turn."

"You're still mourning Mary."

He didn't drink.

"You regret this already."

Sherlock didn't move to take the glass out of John's hand.

"You're lonely and I'm convenient." Sherlock's voice was raw and his eyes were shut. John's heart sank at the sight.

John's heart sank further when Sherlock opened his eyes, he could feel it in his stomach now. Sherlock Holmes, a genious, a man who knew everything and could read everyone, so utterly clueless.

"You are not convenient, Sherlock. You're the most repressed urge in my body." John barely spoke, his voice breaking amidst the admission he spent years trying to convince himself wasn't true.  "But, I'm coming to see that I don't want to keep repressing it anymore. It keeps coming out and drowning me and I try to swim and I try to reach land again and I try to regain control but it never lasts. I'm sick of it. You wanted to play this game, so play it. It's your turn." John finished, a little drunk and still holding the shot of tequila in his hand.

"You're in love with me, too." He heard the words and he emptied the glass, his eyes closed. He didn't get a chance to open them before there were lips on his lips and hands on his neck, gentle and warm. He melted into the touch and for a moment, all was right in the world. Sherlock was kissing him, his arms were around him, he could feel his curls on his forehead, leaning against him, tickling; Sherlock's smell was all over him, the smell of nicotine and tea and trees, the smell of home.

They were lost to the world and life was good again.

Again or for the first time ever? John couldn't tell.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this concept has been overused in the last years, but I couldn't stop myself.
> 
> And, honestly, I didn't want to. My softness for these two is going to be the end of me.


End file.
